


in bocca al lupo

by astudyinrose



Series: empty spaces between stars [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: see end notes for warnings!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 22:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinrose/pseuds/astudyinrose
Summary: After the short program at European Championships, Victor is forced to go see a man from his past.





	in bocca al lupo

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during Chapter 15 of ESBS, right after the short program of European Championships. This should be read AFTER chapter 16 of ESBS.
> 
> Technically, the entire exchange takes place in Russian, but I didn’t want to translate the whole thing, so. Just assume that all the dialogue is in Russian.
> 
> Longhornletters is a beautiful human being.
> 
> See end notes for WARNINGS.

 

Victor stood stock-still, staring at the nondescript hotel door, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

A minute passed, then two, and he still hadn’t raised his hand to knock.

His phone pinged; it was a video text from Yuuri. Grateful for the momentary distraction, Victor opened the video and pressed play. The camera focused on the TV first, where a woman was gesturing wildly on the screen, her eyebrows moving comically as she argued with someone in Slovakian. 

Then the camera shifted around to focus on Yuuri, who moved his eyebrows exaggeratedly, imitating her, before he dissolved into giggles, flopping onto his back.

Victor choked out a soft laugh, love burning through the jagged fear in his chest.

He still couldn’t believe that he had Yuuri—gorgeous, hilarious, talented Yuuri—in his life. It had been the best couple of months he could remember in years. And now…if he wasn’t careful, it could all end.

He pocketed his phone, squaring his shoulders as he knocked on the door.

After a few seconds, the door opened to reveal a man dressed in a white button down—sleeves rolled up over his muscular forearms—and tailored blue trousers, his dark hair artfully mussed.

The man of his nightmares: Alexei Volkov.

 _A wolf in sheep’s clothing,_ Victor’s mind supplied.

“Hello, my darling.” Alex smiled, his teeth glittering.

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” Victor spat.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Don’t be rude, Vitya. Come in.” He stood to the side, allowing Victor to walk into the room. 

As soon as Alex deadbolted the door, Victor spun around, crossing his arms. “Alright, you got me here. No one knows where I am. Including Yuuri. You’ve already violated the restraining order about five times over. What the fuck do you want?” 

Alex walked over to the bar, his limp slight but noticeable.

“What do you want to drink?” he asked, as if Victor hadn’t said anything at all.

Victor’s jaw clenched. “Nothing.”

Alex shrugged and poured two glasses of scotch. He walked casually back over to Victor, holding out one of the glasses.

Victor didn’t take it, so Alex grabbed one of Victor’s hands and placed the drink in it.

“ _Kampai_ ,” he said, clinking his glass with Victor’s. His mouth slid upward into a sly grin as he took a long drink. Victor pressed his lips together, refusing to sip from his own glass.

“Please, sit,” Alex said, indicating the bed. 

“I’m not getting anywhere _near_ a bed with you,” Victor said through clenched teeth.

Alex sighed, long-suffering, as if Victor were still a petulant, spoiled teenager whose very presence annoyed him. As if he hadn’t literally threatened Victor to get him in this room.

“Fine, the chairs, then. You know how much it hurts me to stand too long.”

Victor’s mouth twisted, the spasm of guilt in his chest instantly replaced by anger. It was just like Alex to make Victor feel guilty for something that wasn’t his fault.

Alex didn’t wait for a reply, moving slowly over to one of the arm chairs near the window, holding his bad knee as he sat down.

Victor hesitated for a moment, then walked over and sat in the opposite chair, perching on the edge of the seat.

“So are you going to tell me what you want?” Victor asked bluntly.

Alex took a long sip of his drink. “Did you like the photos of you and Henrik?” he asked, ignoring Victor’s question. “I particularly liked the one where he’s looking at you lovingly, brushing your hair out of your eyes."

“What the…” Victor screwed his mouth shut. _He’s trying to rile you up_ , he thought. _Get under your skin. Don’t let him._

He took a long sip of his drink with a shaking hand. 

Alex went on as if he hadn’t even spoken. “I’m lucky you went into that cafe, otherwise all the photos would have been sappy ones on the beach of you and that Japanese pig—” 

“ _Don’t_ call him that—” Victor interrupted. 

Alex ignored him and kept talking. “But then you went and flirted with that hunky barista, and I knew I’d struck gold.”

Victor’s breath caught in his throat. “The paparazzo on the beach. That was you.” 

Alex threw his head back and laughed, his lips pulled back enough to show his abnormally sharp right incisor. Victor’s stomach twisted. “Of course it was. What did you think?” 

Victor clutched the glass so hard his knuckles turned white. “How long have you been following us?” 

“You shouldn’t have gotten rid of your security detail,” Alex said, smirking again. 

Victor cursed himself silently. “I thought...but you were in jail. I didn’t think…it’s been _so many_ years. I—”

“Not to _me_ ,” Alex snapped, his handsome face turning ugly in a fraction of a second. 

Victor felt his hackles rise immediately, his shoulders rising to his ears. If Alex noticed, he said nothing. He downed the rest of his drink, pouring another one.

 _If he makes it past three, I’m leaving_ , Victor told himself. 

Though...he had no way of knowing how many drinks Alex had had before he’d arrived. 

“What do you want?” Victor asked again.

Alex stared at him for a long moment, his dark eyes flat and empty, like black pools in the middle of winter snow. Victor almost couldn’t believe he’d once found this man beautiful. 

“I want you to suffer like I did.” He said it simply, almost casually, as if they were discussing the weather. 

“I suffered plenty,” Victor said, managing to keep his voice fairly even. “I suffered for eight years because of what you did to me.” 

Alex laughed, the sound bitingly harsh. “You didn’t _suffer_ , darling. You won gold after gold, money flowing in as you fucked beautiful men all over the world. You got every single thing you ever wanted, and I was thrown into hell, thanks to that shithead father of yours. Why should I have to live in a world where you have everything and I have nothing?“

“You think that all the gold medals in the world are ever going to help me forget that you...what you did to me?” Victor said. 

He still couldn’t say the actual word.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Victor thought about all the times he’d talked about this very moment with his therapist over the past decade.

 _What would you say to him, if he was sitting where I am now?_ she used to say. _What would you want to tell him?_

 _I don’t think he could even understand that he hurt me_ , Victor had said. _All he ever cared about was himself._

“You destroyed me,” Victor said, going for blunt and vague at the same time. He pointed at his chest. “In here.”

“Are you still pretending you had nothing to do with it?” Alex sniggered. “You’re so egotistical.”

Victor blinked for a moment, then laughed bitterly. He had forgotten how adept Alex was at twisting the truth, making him think that _he_ was the problem, the “bad one,” over and over again, and making him ask for forgiveness. He’d never own up to what he’d done, not really. 

“You are so fucking twisted,” he said. “I might have believed that it was all my fault a decade ago, because I didn’t know better. But I’m not that person anymore.” 

Alex’s pretty mouth twisted, and he took another long gulp of scotch, draining the glass again.

“It _was_ your fault that I couldn’t compete anymore,” he spat, pouring more. 

 _That’s three_ , Victor said to himself.

“You may not remember, but I tried to stop you. You were blackout drunk. I tried to take your keys, but you pushed me away and told me to mind my fucking business. When the hospital called me, I thought you were dead—" 

Without warning, Alex threw his glass against the wall behind Victor’s head, and it shattered into a million pieces. Victor dropped his own glass, the scotch splashing onto the ground.

“I was as _good as dead_ ,” Alex said, his voice venomous. 

And just like that, the walls of the room felt too close—Alex felt too close. 

All semblance of civility was now gone, and the only thing Victor could see was the man who had held him down and taken and taken and taken, his eyes flat and black just like they were right now. 

Victor’s head was buzzing with adrenalin, his heart pounding against his chest, his entire body screaming _RUN._  

His hands shaking, Victor started to stand up, to put some distance between them, but Alex stood up and crossed the room quickly, moving between him and the door.

He was trapped. 

Victor glanced around discreetly, looking around the room for anything he could use to incapacitate Alex, but there was nothing within reach. There was a lamp a few strides away, but that was all. 

 _Keep your head. You can do this. You’re stronger now than you were then._  

He clenched his fists to hide their shaking. 

“Tell me about your Japanese pig,” Alex said, his calm voice incongruous with his actions. “Is he a good lay?”

“Stop calling him that.” Victor tried to keep his voice flat and emotionless. 

“He sucks in bed too? Too bad. I was hoping to play with him a little bit before I had the rest of my fun.”

Blind rage, mixed with nausea, seethed through him. “Don’t you fucking _touch him_ ,” Victor hissed. 

Alex crossed his arms, shrugging. “Oh, I won’t have to, if you do what I want.” 

“And what do you want?” Victor snapped. 

“I want you to break his heart."

Victor stared at him for a long moment, not quite comprehending. It was like he was in a funhouse mirror world, everything upside down and inside out.

“Why the...why the _hell_ would I do that?”

“Use your imagination. Do I have to do everything?” Alex smiled widely enough that his incisor flashed in the light. 

Victor felt a cold stab of fear, deep in his stomach, the blood draining from his face. “You wouldn’t kill him.” 

Alex barked out another grating laugh. “Kill him? Oh no, no no _no_. No. I wouldn’t do anything as _bourgeois_ as killing him, no. I’ll just make him wish he was dead.”

“What...do you mean?” 

“What do you mean?” Alex echoed in a simpering voice, stalking toward him, closing the few feet between them with practiced ease, a panther with its prey frozen in fear.

He slid two fingers under Victor’s chin, tilting his face upward. 

Victor’s skin crawled, the touch like a hot brand. “Get the fuck away from me.” He started to move back, but Alex’s reflexes were too quick; he grabbed Victor’s wrist, holding his chin in a vice-like grip with the other hand. 

“Don’t move, and I’ll tell you.” Alex leaned in until his mouth was next to Victor’s ear, hot breath billowing against Victor’s skin. Victor’s stomach roiled, his body wanting to shrink backward, to put as much space between them as possible. 

“I will take away the thing he desires the most. I’ll hurt him enough that he’ll live, but he’ll have all his dreams ripped from him, just like mine were ripped from me." 

Alex slid his hand up to cup Victor’s cheek, Victor fighting not to flinch back from the touch.

“I’ll break his legs, one bone at a time, making sure that it hurts,” Alex said, voice soft and sharp as glass. “And when I’m done, he’ll never skate again. He’ll never get that World title he dreams of.” He turned his head until their lips were almost brushing. Victor clenched his fists, ready to thrash out, run away, his whole body trembling with the force of it. 

“And I’ll make sure that he knows I did it because of you, and he will _hate_ you for it.” 

Victor closed his eyes, shaking his head. _No, this isn’t happening, please..._  

“Look at me.” Alex’s fingers tightened on his jaw to a painful degree. 

Victor blinked his eyes open, hoping his hatred showed through his expression. 

“You still don’t believe I can do it, do you?” Alex asked.

Victor clenched his teeth. “No,” he bit out. He knew he was taking the bait, but he just couldn’t help himself.

Alex’s lips slid upward into a smile. “Your father should have been more careful when he made sure I was put in jail. I made some very...powerful friends. They helped me get out, and now I take care of their, well, shall we say, their _problems_. In exchange, they’re doing me this small favor.”

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. No. It can’t be._

That was why he’d been able to get out without Vladimir knowing...without any of their alarm bells going off.

“You’re catching on,” Alex said, smiling. “I can make one phone call and Yuuri would be in my possession in minutes.” 

“You don’t even know where he is.”

“Danube suite 2202, Grand Hotel River Park. He’s in the bath right now, I believe.” Alex checked his phone. “He’s listening to Chopin. How plebeian.”

Victor’s entire body shuddered deeply, fear pounding through his veins. He needed to get out of here, he needed to get back to Yuuri, immediately, make sure he was safe— 

“I don’t know why you think he’s going to stay with you, anyway,” Alex went on. “You’re nothing without your titles, and your medals, and your piles of money. He’s only in love with you because he idolized the Victor on the covers of magazines, not plain old Vitya, who makes mistakes and loves too much and lets people use him. He’ll probably leave you eventually, once he’s milked you for every dime and realized how pathetic you really are. I’m just speeding up the timeline.” 

Victor felt tears start to sting his eyes, but he tried to blink them away. Of course Alex had been able to zero in on his one true fear, and slice right down to the heart of it.

“Stop it,” he whispered.

Alex sniggered. “You really think he’d love you if you weren’t ‘Victor Nikiforov’? Please. He’d dump you in a heartbeat. I’m doing you a favor.”

Victor shook his head again, trying not to let those seeds of doubt take hold. He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way out of this. He needed to get back to Yuuri, he needed to _think_...

“How long do I have?” Victor asked hoarsely. 

“Hmmm. I suppose, let’s say, two weeks. If you don’t do it by the end of Four Continents, it’s _sayonara_ to Yuuri’s kneecaps.” 

 _Two weeks._ Two weeks was long enough.

“If you call your papa, I’ll know, and I’ll set my plan in motion immediately,” Alex said, as if reading his thoughts. “If you call your security detail, and especially if you warn Yuuri, I’ll know. All of those roads end with you finding Yuuri in an alley somewhere, broken and bleeding.”

Victor’s breath stuttered, because he had no way of knowing whether that was true. But still, if he had some time to think, without Alex there…

“Fine. Two weeks,” he agreed through clenched teeth. 

“Wise decision,” Alex said condescendingly, his thumb caressing Victor’s lips.

“Let me go.”

“Give me a kiss goodbye, first,” Alex said, his breath clouds of scotch against Victor’s face. 

Victor’s stomach spasmed, and he wrenched himself free of his grip. “No fucking way.” 

Alex’s perfectly manicured eyebrows lifted. “One call, remember?” 

Teeth gritted, Victor realized he had no choice, as much as he hated it.

He stood completely still, and Alex moved closer. When Alex’s lips slid against his, he felt like he was going to throw up. Finally, Alex stepped back, their lips parting with a smack.

“There, that wasn’t so bad.” Alex patted his cheek and stepped to the side. “Run along now, back to Yuuri.”

Victor strode over to the door immediately, unlocking the deadbolt and flinging it open. 

“Ciao, darling,” Alex called after him. “Good luck tomorrow! I'm excited to finally see Stammi Vicino in person." 

Victor slammed the door behind him, running down the hall. He glanced over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator, but Alex wasn’t following him. 

He managed not to throw up until he was outside the hotel, his head in the gutter, his heart in his throat.

It wasn’t until he was wiping off his mouth with a shaking hand that he realized: Alex was going to show up at the free skate.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: mentions of past abuse, including rape; threats of violence and rape
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. The literal translation of the Italian phrase “in bocca al lupo” is “In the mouth of the wolf”; but it means “good luck” (kind of like when you say “break a leg” in English). The standard response is to say “crepi il lupo,” which means “may the wolf die.”
> 
> 2\. The name Volkov is derived from volk, which means “Wolf” in Russian.
> 
> 3\. Kampai = the Japanese word for “cheers”


End file.
